


In Hindsight

by A Melon Most Bitter (Darwise)



Category: HEARTBEAT (Video Game)
Genre: Drama, F/M, M/M, Time Skips, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-31 23:16:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18323948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darwise/pseuds/A%20Melon%20Most%20Bitter
Summary: Humans say that when you're at death's door, your entire life flashes before your eyes. Is the same true for Mogwai? A look into the life of the Mogwai King. Updates sporadically.





	In Hindsight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the late hours of the night, a free spirited artist of noble lineage works on one of his pieces, unaware of the fateful meeting about to take place.

On the very first day that they meet, Lon's impression of his future wife to be, is (in his own words) an awkward, but endearingly memorable one. It's night time in Pretorricane, and his atelier is the only building with any lights still on. The stone statue he'd been sanding all day was nearly finished; a bit of touching up in the morning and it would be fit for sale. Downstairs, the door to his storefront opens, and Long frowns. He must have forgotten to lock the door again.

"Hello? Is there anyone here? I'm here to speak with the proprietor of this establishment."

The voice isn't one that he recognizes, but the feminine pitch alone is enough to sour his mood. It's likely just another suitor that his father sent over. It had become a sticking point between the two of them for years.

"Apologies, but I'm closed for the night, you'll have to come again later!"

"Are you Long Verrine? I've come a long way to see you, and I would greatly appreciate a moment of your time." The voice calls from downstairs again, sterner this time. It's clear that whoever it is won't leave without having their say first.

"...I'll be down in just a moment!"

"Take your time, I'll have a look around the shop in the meantime, if you don't mind."

"I do mind, some of the pieces on display have already been paid for, so don't touch anything!"

His tone comes out a bit more curt than what he'd initially intended, but at this point, he's feeling more than a little put upon. He takes a quick look in his loft mirror and sighs. His apron and work vest are both covered in dust, sweat, and stone grains. Hardly presentable. It's not that he's interested in making any advances, but he does take a great deal of pride in his appearance. He grabs his glasses from off the worktable, and makes his way downstairs. The sight that greets him is enough to make him sputter and completely lose his calm. A Mogwai woman dressed in a simple blue spring dress is draped across the top of a commissioned statue of Queen Han. Her sandals dangle right in front of the giant stone dragon's face, and the sight is enough to make him raise his voice in anger.

"What are you doing?! Get off of that this instant!"

The woman smiles in response, and she eyes him up and down, as though appraising his worth. It makes him sick to his stomach. Her face and complexion strike him as familiar, but he's too incensed at the moment to think on it any further.

"This is your handiwork? It's quite lovely; it bears a striking resemblance to the genuine article."

She puffs her chest out and laughs, but as she leans forward, she loses her balance, and nearly falls. She manages to grab the snout of the statue with her hands just before she completely tumbles over. The momentum combined with the woman's weight is too much, and the entire head of the statue snaps off. Both the woman and the head hit the floor in with a violent crash, and several large pieces of stone snap off in every direction. Two clay vases shatter, and a small self portrait he'd been working lies tattered beyond repair. The woman herself is already back on her feet. Her eyes dart around wildly, wide like saucers, and both of her hands are cupped around her mouth.

Long can only stare slack jawed at the catastrophic amount of damage done within the span of a minute. Both stare at each other, but neither one says anything to the other for quite some time.

"I. Am. So. Sorry. I s-s-swear, it was never my inte-"

"Four months." Long interrupts coldly.

"I spent four months working on that statue. It was paid in full by the Queen herself, and **you**."

He thrusts a finger in her face, and she shrinks back in embarrassment.

" **Ruined it**."

"I-"

"Don't say a word. I don't care what my father said to get you to come out here, but you've wasted your time, and more importantly, mine. I wasn't interested before, and I am _definitely_ not interested now. Please leave."

She lifts her head, and opens her mouth to speak, but he raises his hand and shakes his head. The deep scowl on his face brokers no argument, and the woman sadly nods, and makes her way to the door. As she crosses the threshold, she turns around and bows so low, that her body forms a perfect L.

"Please know that I am truly sorry; I've acted terribly out of turn, and if there is anyway that I can repay you, please tell me."

The pose is clearly uncomfortable, so he let's her stay that way for several seconds before answering.

"You've cost at least two-hundred thousand yuan in damages. I doubt a vapid tart like yourself has that kind of money, so I won't even waste my time asking. Now get off my lawn."

He slams the door in her face so violently that the entire foundation of the house shakes. Somewhere upstairs in the atelier, another vases tips over and breaks, and Long lets out a frustrated scream. He strips down to his underwear an doesn't even bother putting on his bedclothes as he makes a beeline back upstairs to his cot. He flops down on his back and stares at the ceiling, mind completely blank. Just before he falls asleep, something the woman said clicks in his mind, and quickly recalls just where he's seen that woman before.

 _It bears a striking resemblance to the genuine article_.

Oh.

Oh dear.

_Did I just dress down the Mogwai Queen?_

The thought repeats on loop in his head for a long time as he stares up at the ceiling.

It's nearly daylight before he falls asleep.

 

It's midday by the time he's roused from his fitful sleep. There's an incessant knocking at his front door, and part of him is nervous that his hunch about the woman from last night is correct. Maybe she's come back with an entourage from the castle to have her revenge. There's another knock, and after a moment of internal deliberation, he decides to get up and answer it.

If he's going to receive royal retribution, he'd much rather meet it head on than naked and half asleep in his bed. He puts on a simple robe before throwing open the door, and sure enough, the woman is there in front of him. She's dressed in a traditional Pretorricane Hanfu, and there is no mistaking her identity this time.

"May I come in?"

He looks over her shoulder, and sees that several of his neighbors are whispering and pointing while others have already begun to form a crowd. He ushers her in without a word and shuts the door behind him. Before she can say anything, he gets down onto the floor and grovels.

"Your Majesty, On my family's lineage, I humbly apologize for my atrocious beha-"

"Shh." Han shushes him, and kneels next to him. She lifts his chin up so that he's looking at her face to face.

"No. I won't accept a disingenuous apology. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I intruded upon your personal space, and cost you a great deal of financial hardship because of my selfishness. Long of the Verrine family, please accept my humblest apologies."

She claps her hands together, and a blinding light fills the air. When it subsides, she's holding a bouquet of flowers in her hands the likes of which Long has never seen before. She hands them off to him, and as he reaches for them. All of the bulbs turn towards him and bloom simultaneously. He has to admit, it's quite the party trick.

"Do you like them? I made them just for you; you'll find no others like them on Solum! As long as you leave them in water, they'll never wilt."

Long wants to say something, but he's afraid that it might offend her. Han seems to sense this.

"I'd like to know what's on your mind. Please, speak with me as you would any other Mogwai."

"Most other Mogwai aren't capable of killing me with just a dirty look."

"I would never hurt one of my subjects without due cause; and even then. I prefer corporal punishment to death. Life is precious, and shouldn't be taken so callously. I haven't given you reason to think so lowly of me, so is there any particular reason why you want nothing to do with me?"

Han's words cut to the core, and Long sighs.

"I have an idea of why you might be here, and if I'm being honest, it makes me very uncomfortable."

"What does? The idea of Marriage? Your father said you might say as much."

"My father... says a lot of things. No, marriage doesn't make me uncomfortable, but the idea that I have no say in the matter does. Let's not mince words. You're here because for whatever reason, my family's ancestry piqued your interest enough that you contacted my father for permission to seek my hand in marriage. Is that close enough?"

The words sound resigned as they leave his tongue, and Han looks at him with a saddened gaze.

"You sound bitter."

"How astute of you."

"You feel as though you're obliged to follow through this time because of who I am."

"Yes." He doesn't bother trying to deny it.

"Would that really be so terrible?"

"Let me ask you something then: You were given a role at birth, and yes, it's an important, if not, the most important one that any Mogwai could ever be asked to take on alone. But how does that make you feel? Having your place in life forced upon you without ever being given a choice or a say in the matter?"

"It's painfully lonely."

Her response is so fast that it surprises him. He'd been venting at that point, and hardly expected any kind of genuine response.

"Long, I can't speak for your experiences, but I take no small amount of pride in my role as Queen, but being this high up means being untouchable. Yes, I have the love and adoration of Mogwai far and wide, but not a single one of them knows me. None of them can tell me what my favorite color is, or how I like my breakfast, or even what my last name is. It's been so long, that even I don't remember..."

She closes the distance between them, and smiles tenderly.

"If what you truly value is your independence, then I will respect that. I will speak to your father on your behalf, and emancipate you from the Verrine family line, if that is what you wish."

"And in return?"

"I'd like to spend the week with you, and see if I can't convince you to change your mind, and let me take your family name as my last. Your soul is so full of passion, and I'd like to have some of it for myself."

"Excuse me?"

"Hm. Was that too much? Then, let me be as straightforward as possible."

She pulls him in for a kiss so deep, it leaves him paralyzed for several moments afterwards.

"Long Verrine, will you go out with me?"

The alarm bells in his head are going off, and every fiber of his being screams: _This is a bad idea from which there is no turning back. This is not the same as marrying nobility, and your life will be irrevocably changed if you so much as entertain this woman's selfish games._

"Very well, I think I'm willing to see where this road takes us in a week's time."

She kisses him again, and all of his doubts are cast aside in favor of curiosity, and mutual attraction.

It's the biggest mistake that Long ever makes for the rest of his life.

 


End file.
